


The Day he was Bitten by a Fox

by orphan_account



Series: The Adventures of Tim and Renard [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Baseball, Body-Shaming, Brief Racial Slurs, Bullying, Creative Writing Assignment, Drama, High School, Latino Character, Not A Very Nice Story, Original Story - Freeform, Some Brief Humor, Some Racial Stereotypes, Sports, Very Brief Violence, brief homophobic slurs, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 17:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9395282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Renard Galler, a rising star on his school's baseball team, fails his team by costing them the winning run. When Timothy tries to cheer him up, things quickly start to go south. Renard has had a bad day.This is the first chapter to the story of Tim and Renard, the point where a certain boy's heart was finally changed.[PLEASE MIND THE TAGS]





	

Renard swung his bat, hitting the incoming ball with ease. It landed way out in the field, almost touching the fence. The crowd roared and threw their hands up in the air, and he took off like a shot. He had long legs; he made it to first base with only a few easy strides. He could have stopped, but he kept on going. He ran and ran, itching to make it home. He passed second base, then third.

The opposing team was scrambling to get him out, throwing the ball around with flimsy hands. He was almost home, only a few more feet to go. He pushed himself, refusing to tire. Perspiration dripped off him like an IV, reminding him that he couldn't stop fighting. Three more feet, two more, one-  
 

He slid on his side, nearly twisting his ankle in the process, just as he heard the ball slam into the catcher's glove. He waited, out of breath, for the umpire to call him safe. He was sure he'd made it, but he had to wait.  
 

Questions were murmured amongst the teams, arguments thrown. Renard shakily stood as the team captains double- and triple-checked a tiny screen held between them. The umpire joined them. Renard couldn't hear what they were saying, but he knew it wasn't good. It was never good when they looked at the cameras.  
 

Soon the umpire nodded before running back to his station. Everyone waited for the call with baited breath, all completely silent. Renard's heart sank as he eventually heard the shouted " _Out!_ " That cost them the game.

He would have had the winning point. It was three-to-two. They would have been tied, but his team had a good offense. They would have won for sure.  
 

His team members all hung their heads in disappointment, some even crying. After shaking hands with the other team, they all left and shuffled onto the bus, Renard getting shoved to the back. Nobody sat next to him. Their star player had let them down.

* * *

The coach gave them all a stern talking-to when they got back to their home school. It wasn't a long one by any means, but to Renard it felt like an eternity. After the talk they moved to the locker room to change into their regular clothes.

After taking an unheated shower and putting on a fresh outfit, Renard walked out towards the parking lot where he knew his mom was waiting.

Just as he got outside, though, he heard the squealing of tires and the screeching of rusty brakes. He turned to see the rusty blue Chevy Beretta pulling into the lot. Fully aware of who was driving, he paid them no mind as he tried to get to his mom's car. He didn't make it in time. He heard the car behind him screech to a halt before the nearly unhinged door was opened and slammed shut.

"Hey, Ren!" There he is. Renard turned around in a huff, only to have the wind knocked out of him by a crushing hug.  
 

"What are you doing here, lardass?" He asked the boy in front of him.  
 

"Again with the cruel nicknames?" Timothy laughed, holding a hand over his heart, "You wound me so!"  
 

"You didn't even answer me."  
 

"Oh, that's right!" Tim snapped his fingers. "I just came back from watching your game! I came here to congratulate you!"  
 

Renard immediately seethed. Timothy always came to his games, insisting that it was something friends did. They weren't even friends. It was annoying. Especially when the guy tried to visit afterwards. He would always compliment Renard's performance, whether it was a good or bad one. At first it was nice, but it quickly grew to be very irritating.  
 

"We didn't win," Renard stated, choosing to at least try to be somewhat nice. His mom was probably watching from her car.

"Maybe not, but you tried so hard!" The Latino gushed, grinning from ear to ear. Realizing how that must have come off, he tried to correct himself. "You don't have to win to do well!"

"We didn't do well," Renard argued. "Anyway, I really need to get home. My mom's been waiting for me."

"Nonsense!" Timothy waved a hand dismissively, "Just tell her you're coming with me to get some pizza!"

"We're not going to get pizza. I'm going home." Before Tim could even respond, Renard turned on his heel and walked away. His mom's car was relatively close, so he jumped in, leaving Timothy behind.

* * *

The following Monday, there was little commotion at Del Norte High School. Normally, after a sports game, there was plenty of gossip, and many flirtatious cheerleaders to go around. But, whenever their team lost, there was nothing. Renard almost wished he'd get roughed up by one of the football jocks, or be teased by one of the cheerleader-wannabes. At least there'd be something going on. Although, Renard never got bullied anyway; at a shocking six-foot-eight, people found him far too intimidating to mess with. It was almost a shame, really.

Instead, still in a foul mood, Renard got to do the bullying. He knocked into Freshmen and Sophomores as he walked down the halls, grinning when nobody stood up to him. He threw insults around, calling out words such as "faggot" or "beaner" as he passed people by. Not even the Seniors said a word in their defense.

The warning bell for first period rung, signaling that he had two minutes to get to class, but he didn't rush. He never did.

As usual, he was about a minute late. His teacher didn't care, though; despite his constant tardiness, Renard was a decent student. He didn't get a detention.

When he heard the whispered "Hey, Ren!" From the seat behind him and to his right, Renard wished he hadn't come to class at all. He couldn't just leave, though, so instead he settled on ignoring Tim completely.

Timothy stopped trying to get his attention after only a minute or two. Therefore, most of the class went by rather uneventfully. The teacher simply droned on about proper syntax and punctuation, handed out a few quizzes, then moved to his desk and tapped repeatedly on the screen of his iPhone. His work was done for the day.

Renard filled the bubbles with his dull, chewed-up pencil, barely reading the questions before answering. English was his first language; of course he knew the difference between "you're" and "your", and "who's" and "whose".

When Renard was almost done with his quiz, though, a ball of paper landed perfectly atop his head. He dropped his pencil in surprise and grumbled to himself, earning a half-hearted "Renard, please," from the teacher.

He unfolded and unrolled the piece of paper, irritated by whoever tossed it at him. He read over it with annoyed disinterest. But, as he read the note, he grew rather flustered.

On the paper was what seemed to be a flirtatious question: "I think you're really cute! *teehee!* What kind of shampoo do you use?" Next to the note was a crudely drawn stick figure that somewhat resembled Renard, holding a baseball bat, his scribbly hair blowing wildly in the wind.

Renard's ears turned slightly pink, and he looked around frantically, trying to figure out who wrote the weird note. The culprit was quickly revealed.

Timothy's head was bowed, his forehead resting on his desk. His shoulders were shaking, making it obvious that he was laughing. Sometimes he would let out a muffled snort, and that would get him started again.

Renard crumpled up the paper and threw it back at the prankster, his cheeks a furious shade of crimson. Timothy struggled to hold back even more of his laughter after realizing he'd been found out.

Frustrated with Timothy's antics, Renard filled in the last few bubbles, not even looking at the questions, then grabbed his backpack and stormed out of the room. The teacher didn't even notice.

* * *

He went through the rest of the day's classes without much incident. Even his lunch period lacked any excitement. He stewed in his own thoughts as he ate, not even tasting the meal. He was glad that Timothy had a different lunch hour. He didn't feel like dealing with the annoying prick any more that day.

After school, Renard went to his locker and pulled out his baseball bat. Usually people weren't allowed to bring in personal sports gear, but Renard was a star player, and he refused to play with a different bat. He just had to keep it in his locker. Something about a rule against blunt weapons on campus.

He made his way over to the locker room, needing to get changed for baseball practice. They had one more game that year, and after their recent loss, they really needed to prepare.

Before he could get there, though, he heard the usual: "Hey, Ren!" He turned on his heel, ready to tell the pest to back off. It probably wouldn't work, but he wanted to get to practice as soon as possible. He had to at least try to get the Latino off his back.

Timothy almost skipped his way over to the Renard, a smile splitting his face nearly in two. He stopped just short of knocking into Renard, causing the taller boy to take a step back.

"Tim, I'm on my way to practice," Renard warned. "You'd better make this really quick."

"Oh, don't worry, it won't take long!" Timothy assured him as he reached into his backpack, digging around until he found what he was looking for. He then pulled out a flyer with the words "CLUB ACTIVITY SIGN-UP" at the top. "I was wondering if you'd like to start a club!"

Renard closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Was he serious? Starting clubs was something losers with too much free time did. Could this guy be any more annoying?

"I'm not making a club with you. That sounds stupid." Renard turned around, fully prepared to ignore whatever else the runt had to say.

"I don't mean this year," Timothy elaborated, "I mean when we're Seniors!"

Renard stopped in his tracks. He processed what was said for a while before turning back to the boy behind him. He didn't mean...

"You want me to quit baseball?"

If Renard was going to join a club, it would have been during his Freshman or Sophomore year. Hell, he may have even considered it early on this past year if he hadn't started playing baseball again. There was no way he was going to spend his last year going to meetings when he could be playing his favorite sport.

Immediately sensing he'd made an error, Timothy tried to correct himself. He always did that. It was annoying.

"No, not at all! What I really meant was..." But he trailed off, realizing that to join a club, Renard would have to put down the one he was currently involved with. There wouldn't be time for him to do both things.

"You want me to quit baseball for _you?_ " Renard advanced on the shorter boy, starting to see red. Did Timothy really think he was that bad? So bad he'd have to take up a new hobby? It was one loss!

"N-No, I didn't mean it that way!" For the first time, Timothy actually looked a little scared. Good. "I just thought, since we're friends and all-"

"We are _not friends!_ " Renard yelled in his face, backing him up to a nearby locker. How dare this fat idiot insult him so? How dare he act like a stupid goody-two-shoes, pretend they're the best of friends, do whatever possible to get under his skin? Just because he was an ace student with a dad and a house and a car and a future, he thought it'd be funny to bring down the athlete loser of Del Norte High? How dare he?

"Ren, I'm sorry, I just-" Renard interrupted by shouting again, slamming his fist into the locker next to Timothy's head. Just to scare him. He left a dent. His hand was going to be sore later, but hopefully it'd be worth it.

"Renard, please! Just calm down-"

"Shut up!" Renard was starting to get really angry. He was already in a bad mood to begin with, and he was fed up with Tim's shenanigans. He was done. He was about ready to punch this guy in the face, make him purple, make him hurt-

He gripped his bat tightly, trying oh so hard to calm down. This wasn't like him. He took another deep breath, leaning away from the trembling boy trapped in front of him. He was ready to turn around and walk down the empty hallway, ready to pretend this encounter had never happened.

He started to do just that. He backed away, feigning calm, until he was a few feet away. He turned and took a few steps towards the locker room, satisfied that Timothy had learned his lesson.

But then the lardass had to go and open his stupid fat mouth, as usual.

"You really are as bad as they say, aren't you?"

Renard saw red. Unfortunately for Tim, his mother wasn't watching this time.

The next thing either of them knew, Timothy was on the ground, holding onto his battered arm. He was crying, and he didn't seem like he was going to stop anytime soon.

Renard wasn't angry anymore. He was empty. He watched the shorter boy with detached dismay, then turned his gaze down to his bat. The hand gripping it was shaking fiercely, as if he'd swung at a ball with all his strength.

He then put two and two together, and instantly felt guilty. Two large, leaking eyes looked up at him, filled with hurt and betrayal. Renard couldn't find it within himself to keep his gaze on the sad sight before him.

Instead, he turned and walked towards the locker room, as he'd initially planned to. He didn't apologize, even though he so desperately wanted to. He just kept walking, his steps almost as heavy as his heart. He left the other behind like he always did. Timothy did not call after him.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this! Despite the content, I really enjoyed writing this.
> 
> These two characters of mine were created very recently, and I wanted to reveal a bit about their past. I even learned some things about both of them! I guess you could almost call this an experimental character study!
> 
> Please leave a comment if you'd like! They give me life!


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